Shortly after my daughter Juli-Ann was born, I started a loving tradition
that I know others (with whom I have subsequently shared this special plan)
have also started. I tell you the idea here both to open your heart with the
warmth of my story and also to encourage you to start this tradition within
your own family.
Every year, on her birthday, I write an Annual Letter to my daughter. I fill
it with funny anecdotes that happened to her that year, hardships or joys,
issues that are important in my life or hers, world events, my predictions
for the future, miscellaneous thoughts, etc. I add to the letter
photographs, presents, report cards and many other types of mementos that
would certainly have otherwise disappeared as the years passed.
I keep a folder in my desk drawer in which, all year long, I place things
that I want to include in the envelope containing her next Annual Letter.
Every week, I make short notes of what I can think of from the week's events
that I will want to recall later in the year to write in her Annual Letter.
When her birthday approaches, I take out that folder and find it overflowing
with ideas, thoughts, poems, cards, treasures, stories, incidents and
memories of all sorts - many of which I had already forgotten - and which I
then eagerly transcribe into that year's Annual Letter.
Once the letter is written and all the treasures are inserted into the
envelope, I seal it. It then becomes that year's Annual Letter. On the
envelope I always write "Annual Letter to Juli-Ann from her Daddy on the
occasion of her nth Birthday - to be opened when she is 21 years old." It is
a time capsule of love from every different year of her life, to her as an
adult. It is a gift of loving memories from one generation to the next. It
is a permanent record of her life written as she was actually living it.
Our tradition is that I show her the sealed envelope, with the proclamation
written on it that she may read it when she is 21. Then I take her to the
bank, open the safe deposit box and tenderly place that year's Annual Letter
on top of the growing pile of its predecessors. She sometimes takes them all
out to look at them and feel them. She sometimes asks me about their
contents and I always refuse to tell her what is inside.
In recent years, Juli-Ann has given me some of her special childhood
treasures, which she is growing too old for but which she does not want to
lose. And she asks me to include them in her Annual Letter so that she will
always have them.
That tradition of writing her Annual Letters is now one of my most sacred
duties as a dad. And, as Juli-Ann grows older, I can see that it is a
growing and special part of her life, too. One day, we were sitting with
friends musing about what we will be doing in the future. I cannot recall
the exact words spoken, but it went something like this: I jokingly told
Juli-Ann that on her 61st birthday, she will be playing with her
grandchildren Then I whimsically invented that on her 31st birthday she will
be driving her own kids to hockey practice. Getting into the groove of this
funny game and encouraged by Juli-Ann's evident enjoyment of my fantasies, I
continued. "On your 21st birthday, you will be graduating from university."
"No," she interjected. "I will be too busy reading!"
One of my deepest desires is to be alive and present to enjoy that wonderful
time in the future when the time capsules are opened and the accumulated
mountains of love come tumbling out of the past, back into my adult